


Burning glances, turning heads

by Sweet_maker (mohawke)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Smut, Snark, Ugh Orlais, Winter Palace, how do i deal with feelings?, idiots don't understand feelings, scowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4978156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mohawke/pseuds/Sweet_maker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt<br/>http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15060.html?thread=58189268#t58189268</p>
<p>Basically just an excuse for me to write snark and smut. I regret nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning glances, turning heads

Cat looks up with a start as the door swings open. Cullen steps into the room, eyes roaming appreciatively over her frame. She finishes securing the dagger to her thigh, smirking at the way he stares at the exposed length of her leg. "Are you just here to stare commander? Or is there some purpose to this unwelcome visit?" He lets out an exasperated groan. "Maker's breath, Cat. It's been almost a week. Can't you just admit-" She straightens, letting the blue silk fall back down to cover her legs. "Cullen Stanton Rutherford" she says angrily, hands on her hips. "I did nothing wrong. You're just too stubborn to realize it was your fault" she gives him an icy stare, grey eyes narrowed. "Maker have mercy on the poor fool who fancies trying to capture your heart this evening." Cat breezes past him, head held high.

The entire disagreement had stemmed from a damned letter and a visit from a _friend_ of her's. Cullen scowls, remembering the way she had lit up in that blighted noble's presence. The boy _clearly_ harbored feelings for her, taking every opportunity to place a hand on her arm or whisper in her ear. When he said something to Cat she was livid. Now he's trapped here in this viper's nest with nothing to do but watch as she wraps the entire court around her finger once more. He follows her from the room, into the fray. 

Cat revels in the heady rush of the Game. This is what she did best in Ostwick, wielding words and weapons with deadly precision. She catches Cullen staring at her sullenly as she speaks with a noble from Jader. She leans in closer to him, noting the way the Commander's jaw clenches tightly. Cat let's out an airy laugh at the nobleman's quip. 

Cullen watches as she gives the fool a dazzling smile, looking at him coyly. He half-heartedly listens to some droll tale the woman next to him is telling, nodding every so often. His eyes are fixed on the inquisitor though, taking in her every movement.

"Pardon me, my lord. There's something I need to take care of." She gives him a hopeful smile "I do hope you'll save me a dance?" He nods, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "As if I could resist the opportunity to dance with such a beautiful woman."

Cat crosses the ballroom, brushing past Cullen and opening the doors to the vestibule. He waits a moment before stalking after her. The noblewoman looks at him in bewilderment, her story ending midsentence. Cullen finds her in the trophy room, feigning interest in the collection of stuffed game and exotic creatures. "Do you think this is funny?" he asks with a glare. "Whatever do you mean, Commander?" her face is a mask of carefully crafted confusion. He closes the gap between them, staring down at her. Her breath hitches at the predatory look he gives her. 

She licks her lips, stubbornly meeting his gaze. "It's driving you mad, isn't it? These _Orlesians_ trying to win me over. Perhaps one will. I happen to be available at the moment." His eyes narrow "You can tease me all you want _Inquisitor_ , but we both know who you will end up with at the end of this maker forsaken ball." She scoffs "Such confidence. Don't bet anything important in that wager, we all remember Wicked Grace..." Cullen watches her slip away, hips swaying as she walks back to the ballroom. 

The night drags on, Cullen's patience wearing thin once the dancing begins. He fends off countless invitations, his gaze fixed on the Inquisitor. Dance after dance he watches as she glides across the ballroom in the arms of various partners. With a huff he leaves his spot, briskly stepping out onto the polished floor. "I need to borrow her" he growls to the fool who is currently dancing with her. Cat looks up at him in shock. Her partner nods, seeing the stony look on the Commander's face. 

Cullen pulls her into his arms, setting a palm possessively against her lower back. It's low, almost too low to be considered proper. His other hand wraps around hers. He begins to speak as they fall into a rhythm. His voice is low and gruff in her ear. "You are impossible, _Lady_ Trevelyan. Teasing and tormenting. Such disregard for _propriety_. The Herald of Andraste, leading on poor unsuspecting _boys_. We are both well aware you have no intention of following through with those empty promises." She shivers at his words. "Commander, this is hardly appropriate." He smirks, noticing the flush that tinges her skin. He dips her, whispering into her ear promises of his touch when he brings her back up against him. "...mine is the name that will fall from your lips tonight." The music ends and he leaves her, bewildered and wanting.

Cat can't focus, her meaningless flirtations no longer as appealing. He's turned the tables, leaving her frustrated and aching. She's aware of her arousal, slick between her thighs as she moves. When the ball ends she practically dashes back to her room. She lets out a frustrated sigh, slipping her shoes off. There's a knock on her door. Cat wrenches it open "Wha-" He kisses her roughly, hands holding onto her face as he savors the feel of her lips against his. "I can't do this Cat. I can't stay away..." he says when he breaks the kiss. "Then don't." She kisses him, lips demanding more. Cullen nudges the door closed with his foot, fingers twining in her hair. He bites her lower lip, dragging a low moan from her throat. "Maker's breath." he hisses as she arches against him, brushing against his length. He guides her back towards the sofa, shamelessly raking his eyes over her body as she looks up at him. "Touch me" she demands breathlessly. He's a weak man when it comes to Cat Trevelyan, her plea his undoing. He falls onto his knees, shoving the silken skirt up above her hips. His hands, warm and strong, glide along her legs. Maker those legs. He thinks about them wrapped around him as he takes her and she rides him. The dagger she had strapped on for an extra measure of caution is thrown on the ground and his lips are on her. He blazes a trail along the length of her leg, stopping shy of where she wants him. "You're _wet_..." he states, stifling a groan. She whimpers impatiently. "I've been this way half the night. Do something about it." He smirks, nudging her legs further apart. She relishes the feeling of his stubble brushing against the tender skin of her inner thighs. Her smallclothes are the only thing standing between her and the release she's aching for. With bated breath, Cat watches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of the lacy garment. He tugs, the delicate fabric tearing. She frowns at him "Cullen! I lik-" her protest is cut off by a strangled moan as his tongue delves between her folds. Her head falls back against the sofa, eyes drifting shut. 

Cullen works her with his tongue, savoring her taste. Small gasps fall from parted lips, each stroke adding fuel to her desire. He circles the bundle of nerves that always leaves her gasping with his tongue before grazing it with his teeth. She keens at the sudden sensation, fingers gripping tightly in his disheveled hair. He slips two fingers into her slick heat. He brings her higher with each stroke, his name falling from her lips in a mantra. With a final curl of his fingers and a flick of his tongue she lets out a stuttering moan. She clenches around him as he works her through her peak. His movements taper off as she leans bonelessly against the cushions, a shaky breath leaving her. Her eyes flutter open, gazing down at him. "Come here."

She's not shy, something he learned quickly. Her lips meet his, crashing together in a desperate battle. She can taste herself on his tongue. Cullen groans, breaking their kiss. Cat's fingers deftly undo the fastenings of his coat, pushing it off him. He works his boots off as she trails slender fingers along the familiar planes of his chest. "Bed. Now" she orders, pushing him off her. His laugh is low and rich, sending a new wave of desire washing over her. 

Cat wastes no time, straddling his hips the moment he lays down. Her hands clutch at his chest as she leans down for another rough kiss. Blue silk brushes against his heated skin, cool to the touch. It's not what he craves though. He wants to feel her, all of her. He grips her hips tightly in his hands. With a devious smile she rocks against him. He lets out a strangled swear, the contact sending a fissure of heat through him. "This blasted thing needs to come off, now" he growls in her ear, fingers working uselessly against the lacing. Cat lets out a whimper of frustration. "Just rip the damn thing off me" she pleads. The laces break with a sharp pull and Cullen drags the gown off of her. She undoes the clasp on her breastband, leaving her bare to him. "Andraste have mercy..." he whispers as he looks at her astride him. "Commander, I enjoy this whole smoldering gaze you are doing but right now I want you inside me." His eyes darken at her request and he helps her strip off the last remaining pieces of clothing. "Cat..." he whisper's her name, a lover's plea. 

She guides the head of his cock between her legs, slowly sinking down onto his length. When he's finally sheathed fully inside her, Cat kisses him sweetly. "Maker I've missed you, missed this..." she whispers, slowly rolling her hips. She sets a steady rhythm, moving sinuously against him. Cullen watches intently as she rides him. His hands trail along her waist, inward and upwards before settling on her breasts. Cat lets out a cry as his thumb brushes a sensitive peak. He teases her over and over, alternating between fingers and lips. Her rhythm begins to falter as she loses herself in the onslaught of his ministrations. Cullen pushes her onto her back, filling her again in one smooth thrust. Her nails grip his back tightly as he takes her. Hard and unrelenting, this is what they need. Cat writhes beneath him "More-" she whines, letting out a low keen when he slides a hand down between them. His thumb rubs tight circles around her clit, pushing her to the edge. His name tumbles from his lips in a sharp cry as she clings to him. He manages a few more thrusts before he follows her to his own sweet release, hips jerking as he spills inside her. He bites down on her shoulder to muffle his shout.

They lie there intertwined as they catch their breath. Cat looks over at him, golden hair now relaxing into it's natural curls. Cullen turns to look at her, kissing her gently. "I'm sorry, Cat" he says, stroking her cheek. She smiles "Me too. Maker's breath...we make quite the pair. A couple of stubborn fools." He chuckles, stroking her hair softly. She curls up around him, an arm thrown over his stomach. Cat is asleep first, her head tucked against him. Cullen pulls the blanket up, drifting off into a dreamless sleep as he listens to the cadence of her breathing. 

When the pair emerge the next morning, hand in hand, Cat swears she hears a collective sigh of relief. "Well, it's about damn time." Varric says, shaking his head.


End file.
